


Manual Instruction

by loveslashangst



Series: "Come Along, Ponds." [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveslashangst/pseuds/loveslashangst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Rory's on board, Amy and the Doctor have some 'splainin' to do. Don't worry though, I'm sure they'll work things out. Eventually. Sequel to "Insomnia".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manual Instruction

**Author's Note:**

> [tree00faery](http://tree00faery.livejournal.com/) had a birthday and I offered her fic. She asked for a Rory/Amy/Eleven, so how could I refuse? As I thought more and more about it, it became slightly less cracky and a little more sweet. I'm now digging the Rory/Eleven vibe.
> 
> Beta'ed with sexy brainy professor specs by [ophymirage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ophymirage/)

Rory is going to kill the Doctor. He grips the kitchen table hard with both hands to avoid strangling the man across from him.

The Doctor swallows -- bow tie and Adam's apple bobbing -- and looks to Amy as if he's confused about why Rory might be offended.

"Would you mind repeating that?" Rory says with what he thinks must be extraordinary calm.

The Doctor takes another bite. "Mutual masturbation," he says around the battered fish. "Safest sex there is. No risky genital contact. No chance of pregnancy -- not that there ever was one anyway, as humans and Time Lords have never been particularly genetically compatible, and not for want of trying--"

"Doctor," Amy hisses.

"What?" says the clueless wonder. "It's perfectly natural. I'll wager Rory's had a good wank now and then to take the edge off."

Amy has the decency to bury her face in her hands, mortified.

No, wait. That's not decency. That's as good as a confession. They did it. Together. Amy and the Doctor. A good wank to take the edge off? His fiancée and HIM... the alien… raggedy madman in a blue box and how can he just sit there, munching fish sticks and looking slightly puzzled?

"'Sides," says the Doctor. "It was only the once anyway. And before you go pointing fingers, do keep in mind that it wasn't Amy's fault. Not really even mine, come to think of it. Sort of a spur of the moment… thing. Really, if anyone needs blaming, it's the TARDIS. She's the one who put Amy up to it. And provided the vibrators."

"Please, please, please stop talking," says Amy from behind her hands. She lowers them, palms to the table, and fixes him with that look that usually precedes the kind of very long explanatory "chat" all men hate. "Rory. Let me explain."

"You had it off with him." It's too painful to contemplate -- insult to very real injury. "You ran off with him the night before our wedding and then you had it off with him."

"Near me," the Doctor corrects. "She was up on the landing."

Amy gives him a wilting glare.

In a rare example of not being the most clueless sod in the universe, the Doctor sticks his nose back into his half-empty teacup.

Amy reaches out. Takes Rory's hand. Holds it in both of hers. And only because of the beseeching look in her eyes does he not just rip his hand out of hers and leave.

"It was before," she says.

"Before what?" His voice doesn't even sound like his.

"Before you were…" She pauses. Takes a deep breath and blinks back tears. "Before I thought I'd lost you. Before five years from now and pregnancy and country house and old people gone mad. Before we almost froze to death. Before we didn't know what was real. Before I knew I'd rather die than live without you."

"Well," he says bitterly. "That's comforting."

"You were in her thoughts," says the Doctor to his plate, where he is sopping up the last of the custard with his remaining fish stick. He pops the nauseating combination in his mouth. "The whole time she was with me," their weird host says, hazel eyes steady for a moment. "I know because I can see what's in her head. Time Lord thing." He mops his mouth with a serviette. "Look, Rory, she's a lovely girl. I'd be lying if I said I were completely immune to her appeal, but it's not me she loves. Never has been. She's even tried to tell herself it is, but it's not."

"Why should I listen to you?" But Amy's hands are warm and reassuring against his.

"Because," the Doctor draws out the syllables as he swipes a finger along the edge of his plate, scooping up custard. "You love her." He licks his finger. Gazes at it, thoughtful. "And because you two are just right for each other." Those eyes -- old and young at the same time -- Rory has the uncomfortable sense of sitting at a table with someone who is really and truly not human.

"What's more," the Doctor continues, "knowing what I do about you, I'd say you're a fool to consider what I know you're considering. You love her. She loves you. She wandered. She came back to you. Adventure in Venice. Weirdness on the return trip. You broke out of hallucination. Returned to the TARDIS. Collected the hero's kiss, right in the engine room and right in front of little old me. That means you won."

"Won?" he says. "How exactly did I win?"

"You found someone who would die for you." Suddenly annoyed, the Doctor stands. "Humans. Just when I think you're going to--" He wags a finger at Amy. "See? Worried. Didn't I tell you he'd start worrying? Humans always get so bloody worried about these things. Let them in -- even for a moment -- and what do they do? They start whingeing and whining and worrying about what might be and what should have been and what's not perfect instead of just enjoying what they have." He scoops up dishes. Dumps them with a clatter into the sink.

So the Doctor cares more about Amy than he's letting on. Rory's not sure if that's a strike for him or against him. "All right. Tell me. What do I have?"

The Doctor leans hard on the edge of the sink, facing the wall. "I don't know," he says with familiar pique. "You tell me."

He glances at Amy. She's biting her lip. Holding her breath. Her two hands hold his one almost painfully hard, though she's completely still.

"Hang on a minute," the Doctor says, turning. "That's a very good idea, isn't it? You tell me. Or, do us both one better and tell HER."

He glares at the Doctor, as does Amy.

The Doctor snatches a carrot stick from the half-eaten plate of nibbles Amy had set out as a sort of appetiser. "You tell her how you feel, she tells you how she feels, and both of you feel better. Then you kiss and make up. Have a decent shag -- I know, yes, over the line -- but the point is, that both of you need to remember why you asked her to marry you and why she said yes." The Doctor bites the carrot stick, half-grinning. "Well? Off you go."

Amy squeezes his hand. "He means well."

And in spite of his wanting to keep playing the Wronged Fiancé, he has to admit the truth of that. He looks at her.

She looks back. Gives him a cautiously tender smile. "Would it help if I went first?"

It's weird really when he thinks about it; he can't remember having loved anyone else. "You already did," he said. "The whole not wanting to live without me thing."

"Ah," says Amy. "Suppose I did at that."

Tongue-tied, he fumbles for words. There's too much in there. Too much to say.

The Doctor's munching has gone from self-satisfied to slightly disapproving. "I don't claim to be an expert at romance," he says, "though I have been dragged to the altar a time or two. But is awkward silence the best you can do? Not very complimentary."

"I suppose you can do better?" He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth.

The Doctor opens his mouth to reply. Thinks better of it. "No. Too easy." He devours the last of his carrot stick. Dusts his hands on his trousers. Comes over to occupy the chair on the other side of Amy. Peers at her in that odd way of his, like he's seeing things Rory's eyes aren't built for. "Yeah. That should do it."

"It's really okay," says Amy pointedly. "You don't have to--"

"Shhh," the Doctor says curtly. "I don't get to wax romantic very often, and certainly not for such an avid audience. Let us have a moment."

Amy rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Then will you please go away so I can fix this?"

The Doctor tuts at her, wounded. "There's gratitude for you." With theatrical grace, he drops to one knee. Gives Rory an apologetic look. "Sorry, but I'll need to borrow one of those for a moment."

Amy withdraws one of her hands from Rory's. Brings the other one up so she can kiss Rory's knuckles, smiling encouragement.

The Doctor contemplates the hand Amy offers him. Takes it. Takes a breath. Looks up. "You're just like thunder."

"Erm," says Amy.

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Rory says, now more annoyed than ever. "She's a bad weather condition?"

"Give us a moment," the Doctor says to him snippily. "I'm going somewhere with this." He turns his attentions back to Amy. "Thunder. Big booming in the sky. Makes most people run and hide, or at least feel uneasy, because they know that danger's ahead. Anyway, some storms are little. Some are big. But they always come. And not like that, I know what you're thinking, stop distracting me." He sighs. "I keep forgetting how rubbish I am at this kind of thing."

"It's all right," says Amy. "Keep going. Thunder."

"Thunder," he says. "Yes. Storms. Should've chosen a different metaphor but there's no helping it now. The people I meet are never ordinary. Even if they look it at first, there's always more to them. When I met you, Amy, you were Amelia Pond, and just a little girl. By the end of the adventure, though… And no that's not going anywhere useful either. Look, what I think I'm trying to say is that I wanted you to come with me because I knew there was more to you than appearances might dictate. I wanted to see if you'd rise to the challenge. And you have. Brilliantly, come to think of it. Sometimes I think people like you are as unavoidable as wind and weather. And like wind and weather, what's easy or calm or fun isn't always what I need. Sometimes it's the things that make life complicated or inconvenient that are best for me. And that's what you've been."

Amy smiles. "So you like me because I make everything complicated?"

"No." He squeezes Amy's hand. "I like you because you're inconvenient."

Amy's eyebrows go up. "This is waxing romantic?"

"Yes," says the Doctor. "Because the heart of romance is to see another person just as they are, and to love them for it. You see me as I am, but you don't leave me as I am. You question me and argue with me and sometimes outright defy me. But I need that, because I'm used to being able to out-talk everyone until I get my way. You're the thunder in my life, and if I don't at least pause to listen, I deserve to get struck by lightning. In the purely metaphorical sense, mind you, because real lightning bloody HURTS." He kisses the back of her hand. "You're special, Amy Pond. You're complicated. You improvise with the very best of them and I'm very glad that I met you."

Is it his imagination, or has she gone a bit misty-eyed? "I'm glad I met you too."

The Doctor stands. "Right. Your turn, Rory. Romance. Off you go. Good news is you can't do much worse."

And that… actually helps more than it really should. He shifts in his seat. Looks at Amy.

Amy looks at him. Smiles. Takes both his hands in hers. "I love you, Rory," she says. "And I'm going to marry you. But for now I want you to travel with us until we're both good and ready to go back."

He nods. "I'd like that." He fumbles for words, wanting to tell her everything that's in his heart, but not sure where to begin.

"Try the truth," says the Doctor, who's gone back to leaning on the cabinetry. He pops another one of the nibbles in his mouth. "Might be rubbish, but it's easier to keep track of."

Okay. Truth. He takes a deep breath. "I could tell you you're like the air I breathe, but that's only a piece of it. I could tell you with every heartbeat I think of you, but I don't know that you'd believe me." He sounds quite the prat, he's sure, but he's starting to get the hang of things now. "I could tell you I've never loved anyone but you, not with my whole heart. I could tell you that you're the only one I want because that's really true, and I'd be lying if I said there was never a time when I hated you for it."

"I know," she says, "and I'm sorry."

He fights back memories of the dark days after the Doctor saved them from Prisoner Zero. Maybe he'd been stupid to expect her to fall into his arms and not Jeff's. (Truth be told, he's never gotten over the sting of not being the "good-looking one".)

"No," he says. "It's okay. I keep coming back to you. Every time you leave. Every time I run away. I have to come back, because I love the way you complicate my life. Everything should be peaceful and happy and calm. But the Doctor's right; it's never going to be like that with you. And I guess I'm starting not to want it to be. You're an adventure. People will think I'm mad. Sometimes I'll think I'm mad. Sometimes you'll know I'm mad, but that madness is going to be worth everything."

"How d'you figure?" But she's smiling through the good kind of tears.

"Because no matter what happens, I'll have loved you, and earned your love in return." Wow. That almost sounded good.

The Doctor applauds. "There now. That was brilliant. Now kiss and make up properly."

Amy glares at the Doctor. Kisses Rory, hard and deep and full of the love he's always wanted. And he kisses her right back. Pulls her onto his lap. Fills every sense with the wonder of her. Amy. His fiancée. And he begins to believe for the first time that she might actually be his. That he might get to keep her.

How long they stay there, necking, he's not sure. He's not very motivated to do anything but enjoy her. And speaking of that…

"What you did," he murmurs. "With the Doctor. Did you like it?"

Amy pulls back. "What?"

He can't believe he's really asking this, but he has to know. "When you and he…with each other. Did you like it?"

"Are you asking me if the--?" she says cautiously.

"Mutual masturbation," the Doctor supplies, still munching.

Both of them jump, as any decent person would go away and let two making-up people have their privacy. Then again, this IS the Doctor.

"Yeah, that," Amy says, half in annoyance, half in amusement. "If it was good?" Her brow furrows a bit. "Rory, are you really sure you want me to tell you?"

Bugger. That must mean it was fantastic.

Amy's hand at his cheek is gentle and reassuring. She turns his face so she can look him in the eyes.

He finds the words. "If it was better than, you know, you and me…" He swallows hard. "I wonder if I could learn. That is, I mean, if you'd… well… show me what you did."

The Doctor spits out bits of nibble. Chokes on the rest. Thumps himself on the chest. Gasps for air. Grabs a half-drunk glass of water still left out from the previous night. Downs it until his breathing calms. "Sorry," he manages at last. "What was that?"

"You said to be reasonable," he says, though he can't shake the feeling that the Doctor's being overly dramatic for a purpose. "I'm being reasonable."

The Doctor is watching him with surprised interest. He takes another sip of water. "What? Do you want -- I don't know -- _lessons_ or something?"

He nods. "I think I do?" And if he blushed any harder, his face would combust.

Amy blinks, stunned.

The Doctor crosses his arms, thinking. "Well, could do. Certainly could do. Not a problem. Whatever I didn't know about humans and sex, Jack certainly filled in the gaps, the kinky bastard. But I'm not sure that what Amy and I did is a good place to start. For starters, you'd have to get the TARDIS to fancy you a bit more, though once you and she do make nice, it could work out well. Brilliant actually; she's been after me to find a replacement for Jack ever since he left. Which does raise the question: How flexible are you? Nope. Check that. Don't answer that. We'll find out later. No. If Amy's up for it, I'd be glad to show you a few things that don't require complicated temporal mechanics."

He didn't catch any of that. "Do I want to know?" he says to Amy.

"Really not," she says. "But I think he just agreed to help." Her eyes are open and sincere. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, I want to." He doesn't, but hopefully if he lies convincingly enough, his heart will eventually come around. In the meantime, his dick is far more interested than is entirely comfortable when the stranger he's considering letting into their bedroom is none other than the Raggedy Doctor.

Said Doctor is smiling. "Your room or mine?" His face falls into a thoughtful scowl. "Check that. Your room's less scary." He pushes off of the edge of the countertop. "Off we go."

Rory can't believe he's somehow agreed to a… threesome, he supposes, with the Doctor at the helm. Sort of a wilting concept, actually, to have to measure up to this alien, who apparently was better in one go than he's ever been. Amy's hand is running hot and cold in turns, and she has that gorgeous flush high on her cheeks that means she's anxious to get to wherever the nearest shaggable surface is. And she keeps looking at the Doctor and blushing redder. She wants him. She's always wanted him, even after being left behind twice, which can only mean she's hoping that maybe he'll--

"Stop that," says the Doctor firmly, though he doesn't slow his pace as he leads them down the hallway. "Those thoughts lead nowhere, Rory. I'm here to help, not to take your place."

"Sorry. Erm. I mean thanks?" Okay. Now the Doctor's psychic too? Fan-fucking-tastic.

"'S all right." The Doctor stops in front of a door Rory mostly recognizes. "Just didn't want you harshing anyone's mellow, including your own."

"'Harshing anyone's mellow'?" Amy beats him to it.

"Yes. Quite." The Doctor pulls a face as though the words tasted bad. "Add that to my list of "stupid things never to say again.'"

"Good plan," he says.

Amy squeezes his hand, smiles bracingly. "You all right?"

His heart is beating a million miles an hour. "Not sure yet."

She kisses him. Lovingly. Tenderly. And it's impossible not to react to that. Mercifully, the Doctor stays respectfully quiet, watching them. And him watching actually does it a little for Rory. This is his girl. His love. The woman he's following literally to the ends of the universe. He adores every movement of her mouth on his. The way her body seems to fit against his. He's spent so many years being not-quite-the Doctor, a paltry substitute in a makeshift costume, that it's kind of nice to know that in this case, not being the Doctor is actually a good thing.

"Right," the Doctor observes after a few fidgety minutes, "I think we can safely mark snogging off the list of things I need to teach you."

His dick is a pleasant hardness in his pants and he's feeling much more the man. "Unless you think you can do better."

The Doctor's eyes are veiled. He opens the door. Ushers them in politely. Shuts and locks it behind them.

Amy's palm is slightly sweaty in his. He squeezes her fingers.

"Lesson one," says the Doctor. "Foreplay. Honestly my favourite part. Since we're the stuff of her fantasies, I'm going to suggest you take the front, I'll take the back."

He blinks. "What?"

"Undress her," says the Doctor. "Slowly."

He looks down at Amy as the Doctor comes up behind her. Her lips are slightly parted and he can feel the heat off of her skin. He runs the knuckles of one hand from her waist to the underside of her breast. Her breath catches. The Doctor sweeps her hair aside. Looks at him for what is unmistakably permission -- well done there, thanks for that -- then, at his nod, bends to kiss her shoulder.

Amy arches in their arms. He kisses her mouth. Strokes first up, then down her body. Gently cups each breast. The Doctor helps him loosen the hem of her shirt. As one, they pull it upward. Over her head. The Doctor takes her right arm, he her left and together they slowly pull the sleeves off.

Amy's panting and half-naked and more turned on than he's ever seen. It should be weird, having another man in the room with her when she's half-naked. But as much as the Doctor stands out every place else, in private, he just sort of blends in. Non-threatening. And, knowing him, he's somehow doing that on purpose.

"'Course I am," says the Doctor softly into Amy's shoulder. "Trying very hard not to spook you."

"Thanks." As long as he lives, he hopes he'll never get tired of snogging Amy. Good deep ones where he loses track of where his mouth ends and hers begins. The Doctor's hands wander. His hands wander. Amy writhes between them, wanting more.

She's the one who reaches for the clasp on her jeans. He helps her unzip, the Doctor's hands patiently at her waist.

"This bit should be slow too," the Doctor advises.

"Good to know," he teases. But the bitterness is gone, replaced with a humour that only warms him more, this time with anticipation. (They're going to shag her, and she's going to love it.)

They work her jeans down, him from the front, the Doctor from the back. "Can you manage the chucks?" the Doctor asks, on his knees and kissing Amy's lower back. "This body's as rubbish with laces as it is with metaphors."

"Can do." He's mouth-to-navel with Amy. Her hands are in his hair, increasingly desperate. Not that sex with Amy hasn't always been a bit of an adventure (her libido has always outstripped his, as has her confidence) but this is more fun than ever.

Shoes. Socks. They help her step out of her jeans. Continue to caress and kiss. And it's actually more than a little fun. Having a partner in crime really helps. And like any decent partner should, the Doctor's making him look good.

"Lesson two," says the Doctor. "Human wiring. I'm going to talk for a bit, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep finding things to nibble on to keep her occupied."

He doesn't have to tell Rory twice. He tongues her navel, making her gasp and giggle. Brushes teeth over her exposed hipbone. Runs hands up and down and between her legs.

"Rory." Okay, this was worth it just to hear Amy moan his name like that. Never felt quite so sexy as when his fiancée is all but panting for him. "Rory," she pleads again.

"Well done, you," the Doctor says, impressed. "Humans are fundamentally chemo-electrical. Fun chemicals plus a little divine spark. Those sparks flow all around and through you. Part of what makes you move and breathe -- or, in Amy's case, pant--"

"Sod off," says Amy, though she's grinning.

"Maybe later," says the Doctor, unrepentant. "The ancient Indians -- the real Indians, I mean, not to be confused with Columbus's misnomer for Native Americans, really wish he'd listened to me about that, but I'm wittering on again, aren't I -- anyway. The real Indians called the collection points of energy 'chakras'. The Chinese called the living energy 'chi'. Many other alien cultures have different words for a similar concept. Point is, when you're looking to turn on your sex partner, it's damn convenient to know where to touch. We'll start from the top."

Rory watches, fascinated, as the Doctor's frankly gorgeous fingers caress what appears to be the air above Amy's head. Then the point above her nose and between her brows. Then the soft spot at her throat. The cleft below her sternum. The place just above her pubic bone. "And," the Doctor says, "everyone's favourite." He caresses low, between her legs.

Amy arches into his hand. Calls Rory's name. Comes hard. It's gorgeous.

The Doctor supports her as she comes down. Kisses her temple.

"How did you do that?" Rory says.

"Magic," says the Doctor seriously, then winks. "Stand up, lad. I'll show you."

He does. The Doctor takes his hand. Runs it through each one of the "chakra" things. And though his physiology professor would've called it nothing but superstitious nonsense, there's no mistaking the way Amy reacts to the light, almost virtual touches.

"She's very sensitive," says the Doctor. "Even for a ginger. 'S part of the reason she could sense aliens in her bedroom in the first place. Also why I like having her around."

"Thunder," he teases.

"Quite," the Doctor agrees. "So shall we make her go boom again?"

"Can we?" At the Doctor's urging, he curls fingers just above her pubic bone. She shudders.

"Everyone is multi-orgasmic," says the Doctor with a half-grin. "If you do it right. Best thing about ladies of your species."

He's about to reach for the low spot at her groin. The Doctor stops him. "Why settle for being as good as me when you can be mind-blowingly better?"

"Oh god," Amy manages.

He grins at the Doctor. Together, they strip off Amy's very small panties. Touch and caress and kiss and work her to a fever pitch. The Doctor's sensitive fingers quest down. Part ginger curls and lovely pink labia (now swollen darker with her need). Expose her clit.

Amy begs them with half-coherent sobs. The Doctor's supporting her, one arm below her ribcage. He murmurs a question low in her ear.

She nods. "He's good at it too."

"Good man," says the Doctor. He fixes Rory with a pointed look. "If I were on my knees in front of a girl as desperate as this, I think putting her knees on my shoulders might be a very good idea."

"You mean…?" His mouth goes wet at the thought of tasting Amy. She's delicious most of the time. He can't wait to see what she's like when she's as turned on as this.

"Exactly." The Doctor's eyes sparkle. "Off you go."

He gently shifts Amy's legs so her thighs are at his shoulders. Cups her lovely arse. Buries his face in her gorgeous pussy. Nuzzles. Licks. Suckles at her clit. Slides his mouth along her slit. Laps and drinks and devours every drop of her. He knows her well. Knows this well. And the Doctor has her supported at just the perfect angle for him to tongue her. Lap at her.

"How about a finger or two?" the Doctor murmurs.

He almost grins. Slides one finger inside her, then a second.

"G-spot," the Doctor says. "Nestled in and up toward her pubic bone. You'll know it by the texture. Curl your fingers and she'll come like mad."

He does. There's a slight texture there, not quite a roughness. G-spot. He's brushed this a few times, but never had it laid out so clearly. He sets up a rhythm. His cock is as hot as she is, harder than he's been in ages. And yet, he doesn't want this part to end. He wants to bring her like this, just mouth and nose and hands.

When he flicks his eyes up, the Doctor's gently pinching and pulling at Amy's nipples. She has her arms above her head and around his neck, holding on for dear life. The Doctor murmurs low in her ear. She's crying out, breathless. "Rory! Rory! Oh god, please, Rory!"

He quickens the strokes of his fingers. Draws her whole clit into his mouth. Sucks hard. Tongues the sensitive tip. She arches. He smiles, redoubling his efforts.

She loses her words. Makes a low sound of need. It builds. Builds higher. Louder. Becomes a full-fledged scream. Her internal muscles tighten around his fingers. Her body goes rigid. She gushes a tangy, musky wetness. His hand is sopping. Her juices run down his chin and he loves every minute of it.

"Don't stop," the Doctor's voice is oddly calm. "Ride it out until she tells you she's done."

He adds a third finger. She bucks against him, screaming and sobbing. He thrusts his hand slower. Harder. And it must be right, because now she's shuddering in rhythm with his hand and mouth. Slowly, slowly she goes limp in their arms. The Doctor catches her. Rory takes the other half of her weight on his shoulders.

She's moaning, though it's not quite words yet. She shifts, pulling away a little.

He stops. "Enough?"

She nods weakly, muttering something incoherent.

Rory gently withdraws his fingers. Amy shivers happily. He holds his hand to his nose, marvelling at the richness of her scent. He's never made her come like this.

The Doctor's grin is radiant in its approval. "Good. Foreplay. Well done. Now we move on to the main course."

Amy makes an unintelligible protest. The Doctor kisses her temple, placating. "Yes, I know, Pond, but we'll give you a bit to recover and -- based on previous observations -- you'll be more than ready for seconds."

The Doctor heaves her into his arms. Carries her over to the bed. Lays her down, somewhat unceremoniously. Tucks her up under the duvet. Kisses her forehead. "Have a rest. Snooze if you need. We'll be waiting when you wake."

And to his astonishment, Amy curls right up and dozes off.

He stares at the Doctor. "But… she always wants to talk after sex."

The Doctor grins, mischievous and confiding in a stroke. "Not if you do it right. And we just did it right."

Smiling, he brings his hand back to his nose. Inhales.

The Doctor sets a chair in front of him. Sits in his own, each turned so they can watch the bed. For a moment or two, they share the companionable silence of two very smug men.

"Thank you," he says at last.

"Glad to help," says the Doctor. He colours slightly. "Erm. Would it be too forward of me -- that is, I don't want to give offense, considering that you and I have come to such a mutually beneficial truce…?"

He puts two and two together. "Would you like a taste?"

The Doctor looks relieved. "Yes, please."

Feeding his fingers, sopping wet with Amy's come, to the Doctor should be weird. And if it were any other man, it would be. But there's such affection and enthusiasm in the way the Doctor licks every nook and cranny, exclaiming in wordless delight. Not sure how a man can be both borderline pornographic and yet childlike and innocent at the same time, but the Doctor manages it. And his tongue is so talented that it's frankly turning Rory on. When someone's sucking his fingers, he can't help thinking of that mouth on something else. And the thought of the Doctor going down on him is a little more sexy than is really comfortable.

"I could," the Doctor murmurs, lapping at Rory's palm. "Wouldn't mind at all, so long as it'd be fun for you."

For a few sexuality-challenging moments, he considers it. Then shakes his head no. "I want to be with her."

The Doctor nods. "Can't say I blame you there."

They fall into another companionable silence. The Doctor draws Rory's fingers into his mouth one more time. And he can't help stroking. Moving with him. Savouring the taste of her on his own lips.

The Doctor's eyes are dark. Neutral. Mildly encouraging. He has the sense of the man just at the edges of his thoughts, waiting to be invited in. (The Doctor's trying not to spook him.)

"Is it wrong…?" He fumbles again. "To want…"

The Doctor slowly pulls off his fingers. Kisses the inside of his wrist gently. "Nothing is wrong," he says, "if you enjoy it."

He throws all his inhibitions out the window. Catches his free hand at the back of the Doctor's neck. Kisses him fiercely.

The Doctor makes a surprised noise, though it sounds more like the good kind of surprise. The man pulls them to their feet. Embraces him, arms at his waist and back. And he's there, a warm presence in Rory's mind. Welcoming. Wanting. Cautiously drawing him in.

He surrenders to it. To the embrace. To the kiss. To the telepathy or whatever the hell this is. To the Doctor. His mouth is just as kissable as he knew it'd be. His arms are strong, supporting. It feels fantastic, and damned if he's going to pull away now.

The Doctor pulls Rory's shirt out of his jeans. He strips off the Doctor's braces. The Doctor reaches for that absurd bow tie. Rory pulls his own shirt over his head. Both of them press forward again, meeting in a kiss that has no right to feel this good.

"I have no idea what I'm doing right now," he admits.

"I never do," says the Doctor. "Not to worry. Always comes out right in the end."

He's unbuttoning the Doctor's shirt. (He's lost his mind.) "Is it okay if I don't want to…"

"Everything's okay," says the Doctor. "Even nothing's okay, if you want to stop. This is meant to be fun."

He strips the shirt down the Doctor's arms. "There were times when I hated you."

"Likewise." The Doctor's eloquent hands linger at the waist of his jeans. Tease him, just as the Doctor is teasing him by nipping at his lips. "I've gotten over it."

He laughs a bit, his voice more breathless than he means. "I think I have too."

He's never enjoyed stripping, or being stripped, as much as this. As they get down to the complicated bits, they're both complete rubbish -- arms and elbows and he nearly knees the Doctor in the nose when the poor sod tries to help him out of his shoes.

The Doctor, now naked except for some absurdly-patterned boxers, sits back on his heels in amusement. "As fantastic as we were with her…"

He pulls off his other sock. "How can we be this uncoordinated with each other?"

They share a look of mutual amusement. Then the Doctor kneels up on the floor. He does too. The touches are tentative at first. It's like he's never kissed someone before, but in that wonderful, awful first-time way. He has no idea what he should do. No idea what he will do. But somehow it doesn't matter.

"That's my boys." When they look Amy's laying on her stomach, head pillowed on her hand, watching them. She smirks. "Can't leave you two alone for a minute…"

He looks at the Doctor. The Doctor looks at him. They grin. Snog the shit out of each other, all hands and tongues and hungry mouths.

"Oi!" says Amy. "Save some of that for me!"

Laughing, the Doctor stands. Gives him a hand up.

"So you two are getting along now?" She rolls onto her back, exposing long pale lines of kissable skin and gorgeous curves. "Oh goodie."

The Doctor tuts at her. "Vanity vanity."

Amused and annoyed, she scrambles up to the head of the bed. Drapes herself over the pillows, dramatic and inviting. "It's hardly vanity when you're this gorgeous," she teases in a low, throaty voice.

Again, he and the Doctor exchange a look.

"I vote we tickle her until she can't breathe," says the Doctor.

"And then shag her until none of us can move?" says Rory.

The Doctor grins. "I like this plan." He sobers for a moment. "I'm still not human, Rory, so things get very complicated when I come."

"Don't let him scare you," says Amy. "He's fantastic when he comes."

"Then let's do this." He grins at the Doctor. "Tickle. Shag. Puppy pile."

"Brilliant," says the Doctor. Both of them crawl onto the bed toward Amy. Within seconds, she's shrieking and laughing in delight.


End file.
